Page 51 of The House Guest
“What type of art do you make?” Meena asked me after a moment.
“Well, I draw mostly wildlife, scenes of nature, and some humans. I don’t have a specific name for my specialty. I guess you could say I like taking things found in nature and giving them a bit of a bizarre twist.”
Dorian smiled. “Surrealism, maybe?”
“I like that.” Our eyes locked until Brandon interrupted.
“Can I give you a bit of advice, Prim?”
Prim?I’d never liked when anyone shortened my name that way.
“Of course.”
“Your technique is obviously excellent. There is no doubt about your talent. But don’t be afraid to challenge yourself, to take risks, to use the opportunity to tell a story, make a point, change the world with your art. The animals are cute and all. But I feel like you might not be living up to your potential.”
My chest tightened.
Cute?
Fucking cute?
It had taken me days to perfect each of those monkey portraits.
I’d never been great at accepting criticism. But when it came to my art, I was even more sensitive. Who the hell said art needs to always make a statement? Why can’t it just be beautiful or open to interpretation?
“I’m not sure I understand what you’re getting at,” I finally said, feeling deflated.
“Okay…like, for example, the monkeys…” He chuckled. “Again, your talent is obvious. They’re extremely realistic. And while there’s clearly a theme…it’s hard to see the point of putting a bunch of monkeys in various costumes.”
I’d gone from feeling offended to wanting to cry. He thought my art was meaningless?
“Who died and made you the authority on art?” Dorian seethed.
I looked up suddenly.
Brandon shook his head. “No one. I’ve just…been around the art world a bit longer than Prim has. From a career perspective, I know what sells. People are looking for art that makes a statement.”
“And you think some depressing image with a contrived agenda is going to be what brings someone joy?”
Brandon held his palms out. “Relax, I was just trying to give her gentle constructive criticism.”
“By shitting all over something she worked her ass off on? That’s not very gentle.”
My head moved between them as if I were watching a tennis match. I could’ve said something. But I was enjoying this too much. I’d gone from the verge of tears to something else entirely.
“I absolutely did not mean to shit all over anything.” Brandon turned to me, looking a little panicked. “And if I in any way implied that—”
“Sure,” Dorian interrupted. “When I first saw her monkey paintings, I laughed like you did just a moment ago. And I’ve regretted it every day since. Because while funny on the surface, if you stop to actually think about the many possible interpretations, it opens up a cornucopia of discussion prompts. We as humans think we’re the superior species. But we don’t even fully understand where we came from. A world with primates at the helm is probably one of the greatest existential fantasies I could ever imagine. So, perhaps you should ask yourself ifyou’rethe one being short-sighted here, to suggest that in order to be meaningful art has to shove some loud message down people’s throats. There’s something to be said for subtlety.” His chest rose and fell in anger.
The table went quiet.
I wanted to reach across the table and kiss Dorian—that wasoneof the things I wanted. The other was to smack Brandon in the face. Even if he was coming from a good place in offering what he felt was an honest opinion, critiquing my art on the first date was not a way to win me over.
The whole experience gave me a burst of confidence mixed with a dash offuck it all.
“You know what? I’m kind of tired all of a sudden,” I announced, standing from my seat as the chair skidded against the wooden floor. “I’m gonna head home.”
Brandon stood. “Prim, I didn’t mean any offense.”
